


endgame

by kurooos



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, Flashbacks, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Red String of Fate, Soulmates, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 15:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: Bucky counts the seconds in his head as Bruce counts them out loud, still messing with the control panel. His heart is racing, only able to be calm with the fists he keeps jammed in his pockets. Five seconds passes. Six. Seven. Eight. Bucky shuts his eyes.But then he reaches 300 and the platform rattles.The arms poised over the platform glow and open up and all three of them have to blink at the flash of light.When Bucky opens his eyes, Steve is standing there still in the suit he left it, minus one suitcase of infinity stones.





	endgame

**Author's Note:**

> a quick and messy thing i made because fuck the Endgame ending  
> i know i put it in the tags but once again, huge spoilers for the movie
> 
> when i say this is messy i mean it so, please read with a grain of salt i didnt mean to make this into a genuine fic i just wanted some sort of alternative to the mess we got lmao

Steve is face down in the dirt when something inside him hums. A premonition. For a split second, he reasons that Thanos is behind him, poised to deal the final blow. It would be easy. His shield is in half, he’s on his front, vulnerable, battered, hurt, weak.

Steve only know that he’s safe for now because striking the enemy while they’re down isn’t Thanos’ style. Thanos is the type of bastard that wants a worthy opponent on his feet when he finally takes the win. Events from five years ago flood back to his mind to remind him. Steve finally gets up, stands and turns around to face Thanos.

Their eyes meet for what feels like an eternity stretched out. It reaches for edges that don’t exist. Steve takes a deep breath and straightens his back. His fingertips vibrate with energy, a yearning for Mjolnir. It felt like a connection he needed. Filling up _something_ inside to bring forth confidence and strength and courage.

Thanos’ face has a subtle change to it, like he’s actually pissed off that he’d been given a run for his money just then. Steve wants to smile. He remembers back alleys in Brooklyn. Boys twice his size looking at him like he was their worst nightmare. A small spitfire of rage for the injustices he couldn’t change with his own hands. Steve Rogers might have been small but he packed a fight, gave it just as good as he got and never let a bully go without a few scrapes and bruises.

Thanos looks just like that. Like a bully on his last leg, ready to make a move and get stopped by-

The fond memory turns sour. Bucky. He was always there to yank Steve out of trouble he made by his collar. And now here he is without his final act to help him out and walk him home with an arm around his shoulders.

Something in his chest suddenly hums. A whisper of _Home_. Steve doesn’t actually know what the feeling is at first. It’s like a pull, a small thread twined around each corner of his being suddenly vibrating. A spider’s web strand alerting it’s master that it has something.

Suddenly the air behind him opens in sparks. Steve looks only for a split second. It’s all he needs to see Bucky stepping out, gun in hand and steely resolve on his face. The pull in his chest _glows_. Bucky looks at him and the corner of his mouth twitches.

Steve looks back around to Thanos. To watch his face slowly drop in realization. Steve feels high. This is what they were waiting for. His voice surges as he calls the force behind him forward.

The battle from there goes by fast. A blur of fists and swords and spears and teeth and claws. And Tony. _Tony_. Steve always had some sort of respect for him, but it surges when Tony takes the gauntlet and the enemy around them begins to disintegrate.

Steve knows they won, but he still feels a gut wrenching panic seeing ashes floating into the sky. His stomach drops, his vision swirls, and he looks behind him to make sure. (In a quiet patch of woods in Wakanda, five years in the past, a voice calls his name before vanishing on the wind)

Bucky is stepping up to him, completely put together. He must feel something too, must feel the pull, must feel his panic. Bucky stops just inches to his right, behind his shoulder, so close they’re almost touching.

Bucky’s eyes speak a thousand words, all ones Steve needs to hear. _I’m here_. Steve takes a deep breath and the stone in his stomach disintegrates on the winds clearing their battlefield.

Bucky stays in the background at Natasha’s funeral and then at Tony’s. Steve remains as close as possible. Always within reach of the caskets. He’s losing people he loves again and doesn’t know how else to handle it. It isn’t like losing Peggy but it still hurts.

It’s harder at night. When everyone has left and it’s just him and his thoughts. But now he’s got Bucky with him. The grief is starting to get to him.

“I have to go back eventually,” he starts one night. Both of them on their backs in the yard, watching the stars above them. Bucky to his left shifts, rolling on his side to look at him. Steve stares up.

“We still have all the stones together. It’s dangerous. Bruce said we have to put them back where we got them from...” Bucky stays silent beside him so Steve takes a deep breath and continues, frowning because he _knows_ what answer he’s going to get.

“I said I’d go. Just me. Tony was going to...go with me.” Pressure wells up behind his eyes at the thought of Tony.

Bucky makes a noise, and it’s as Steve thought, he’s not happy hearing that.

“No.” He says firmly. Steve tries to interrupt and Bucky growls at him again, “ _No_.”

Finally, Steve turns his head. He knows how to look at Bucky now. Like how he used to. The fragile way he acted with Bucky when he was in Wakanda being treated for the brainwashing he had was a rough time for both of them. And then Thanos… Well, now Steve can stare Bucky down without being scared of freaking him out. But it’s a two way street, Bucky now has gotten his spark back and meets his glare head on.

“If you’re going alone then I’m going with you. If you try and argue with me about it I’m going to punch you.” Steve scoffs. A hollow threat. It falls in one ear and out the other. Bucky grabs him by the elbow, bringing his attention again before Steve can finish the roll of his eyes.

“ _Steve_. I’m serious. You’re not going alone.”

They Yes, No, Yes, No back and forth until they’re both sitting up and Steve feels like he wants to rip his hair out in frustration. Bucky looks like he might just do it for him. His stomach is filled with butterflies as his next words come out.

“There’s a chance I could fix things with Peggy.” It comes out like a whisper. Almost that he’s ashamed to admit this to Bucky. He’s being vague on purpose, not because he’s trying to avoid the subject, but because he knows Bucky will get it with just that, and that if he voiced what he really wanted…

Bucky’s silence is ice cold and his stare more so. Finally he softens up and says, “Peggy Carter, huh.”

Steve doesn’t know why he said it like that. He doesn’t know why Bucky suddenly looks the other way and stares out into the darkness of the field beyond them. His hair blows across his jaw when the wind brushes between them.

“You were always looking after her,” he says quietly, “you’re bad at hiding when you’re in love.”

Steve nods, even though Bucky isn’t looking, “I’ve been thinking of staying.” Like it wasn’t obvious the first time. Steve wants so desperately for Bucky to be happy for him. Steve desperately wants to not know how much this is hurting Bucky.

“If you can fix things with your girl then who’s left to stop you.”

No. No this isn’t right. Isn’t how it’s supposed to go. His chest gets tight.

Steve doesn’t have the chance to say more. Bucky stands up and dusts the seat of his jeans off before walking back up to the porch. Steve lays out in the grass until the sun starts to come up.

The afternoon comes slowly. A hungry crawl that weighs heavy at Steve’s back. He suits up in white once again. The final time.

They’ve set up the platform in the woods since they have no else to put it that’s private and out of the way. Bruce is behind the controls again, getting the final pieces together. Bucky and Sam are standing a little ways away, talking with Steve like he’s just going on a quick trip. Well, to Sam and Bruce he is. Bucky knows.

Bruce finally calls him over and Steve takes a breath. He gives Sam a smile and a quick hug. Bucky is waiting at the stairs. Steve comes closer, feet feeling heavier with each step. Bucky gives him a half smile and somehow that makes this better, soothes his nerves.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back” Steve jokes. Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes. Recognition. It brings something warm up in his chest knowing Bucky is remembering the same thing he is.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Steve pulls him into a hug before the tightness in his throat can burst into tears. He keeps him close, breathes in the scent of him, the warmth of his body under the black leather. Steve pulls back before it gets too long. He takes the briefcase that’s handed to him, humming with power from the stones inside of it.

Steve takes the short climb to the middle of the platform and looks at the three of them. Each step up here had been difficult, that humming in his chest getting uncomfortably tight.

“It’ll only be five seconds for us, but you take however long you need to get those where they’re supposed to be.” Bruce informs him, flicking a few switches on the board.

It won’t be long for them, but Steve knows this is the last time he’ll see them. The mask flips down and locks in place. The last thing he sees is Bucky watching him. As he shrinks down to subatomic, that weighted string inside yanks taught. A dangerous vibration that threatens to break. It holds strong but never loosens again.

* * *

Bucky counts the seconds in his head as Bruce counts them out loud, still messing with the control panel. His heart is racing, only able to be calm with the fists he keeps jammed in his pockets. Five seconds passes. Six. Seven. Eight. Bucky shuts his eyes.

“Where is he?” Sam demands. There’s panic laced in his voice as he turns. Bucky is between him and Bruce and even though he knows he isn’t being addressed, it feels like Sam is trying for answers from him.

Of course he should. Bucky knows where Steve is. Living the rest of his life with the woman he’s loved for almost 100 years.

One hundred seconds have passed. Sam is at the panel with Bruce, both of them arguing. Bucky isn’t listening. He’s staring at the space that once had Steve in it 200 seconds ago.

Bucky keeps counting. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold it together if he stops. But then he reaches 300 and the platform rattles. Bucky’s gut wrenches. It isn’t a bad feeling, but one he’s not experienced too many times in his life.

Bucky only knows that Steve is coming back because this same feeling had pulled on his heart before he stepped through the spinning portal onto the battlefield a few days ago. Was that only _days_ ago?

The arms poised over the platform glow and open up and all three of them have to blink at the flash of light.

When Bucky opens his eyes, Steve is standing there still in the suit he left it, minus one suitcase.

Sam and Bruce have grown quiet. All of them are staring.

Steve grunts when the helmet is pulled off. There’s some sort of hardness to his face. Bucky wonders if it’s been years for him. He doesn’t look that much different.

Steve is still looking right at Bucky. He hasn’t stopped since he got here, and he takes the stairs two at a time before barrelling into Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s hands flinch out of his pockets and wrap around Steve’s waist. They both stumble and Bucky has to use his strength to keep them upright.

“Steve?” Bruce from the side interrupts.

“They’re back. All six are back,” Steve says calmly, face in Bucky’s shoulder. His arms flex and Bucky almost chokes. He gives Steve’s back a gentle pat, trying to get them parted. There’s business to be had. Bruce is going to want answers. Sam is going to want answers. Bucky has all he wants. (But he might want some answers later)

* * *

Steve is still quiet as they disassemble their mess from the woods. He’s quiet when he changes out of his suit into civvies at the house. He’s quiet when Bruce and Sam awkwardly leave the two of them alone. He’s quiet when he sits down on the bed.

Bucky, once upon a soldier, would have stayed at the door. Now, he can see the tremors in Steve’s shoulders and he takes his place next to him. A breath of space between them.

Steve takes a shuddy inhale, staring at the hands in his lap.

“It didn’t work,” he whispers. Broken.

Bucky is at a loss, maybe not as much as Steve right now but he lets him continue, have all the time he needs.

“She knew I wasn’t…” he starts and then stops again, swallowing the lump in his throat, “She knew I wasn’t me. The Steve that was supposed to be there. Before my plane went down we promised to meet up. She’d teach me how to dance. I showed up and she knew right away.”

Steve rubs the base of his thumb, pinches at the skin and then rolls the muscle, pressing and rubbing and then relaxing and switching to the other hand. He has a small, bitter smile on his lips, his eyes glistening.

“She said she couldn’t recognize me. Like I was someone completely different. And you know I couldn’t ever hide anything from her. Told her everything, asked if she’d still give me a chance…

I didn’t belong there, she said. Told me I- I wasn’t the Steve Rogers she fell in love with. She said that I had people that loved me back where I came from-” Steve’s voice breaks a little and he finally looks up from his single breath ramble, looks at Bucky for what feels like the first time in forever. He sees him.

“I’m sorry I left you,” he whispers.

Steve’s soft, pink bottom lip wobbles and Bucky has always been weak to Steve’s puppy eyes. He’s good at using them. He’s gotten out of many arguments like that back in their time. Back further before Steve had travelled.

“We need to talk about this more when you’re calmer. Had something to eat and rested,” Bucky’s hand rests on his shoulder lightly, giving a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” he mumbles, blinking tears out of his eyes. They finally start running down his cheeks and everything sort of melts away with that.

Bucky knows that any more conversation at this point won’t be productive. Steve is good at tugging each string inside of Bucky. Especially one that glows red, pulls them together in a way he won’t ever untangle.

With a sigh, he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand. He’s warm and a little sweaty and that makes Bucky smile a little. Memories of Steve when he was a measly 100 pounds and sick every Thursday come flooding back. A new one joins the precious bunch he’s slowly gaining back.

In it, he’s in their shared apartment, Steve has a fever but he’s in the kitchen, trying to cook with Bucky fussing at him from the counter, his arms crossed comfortably.

“You’re gonna get us both sick with the way you’re leaning over the food, Stevie. Let me do it and you go rest,” he tries, head tipped to try and catch Steve’s attention because he’s already tried reaching out to stop his hands and got swatted for it.

The memory warps, electricity having fried the events between there and the both of them on the couch together with Bucky’s cheek smarting and Steve looking like some cat that got its tail stepped on. There are tears in his bright blue eyes, flickering with his fiery resolve like he’s ready to fight Bucky off.

Bucky can’t remember what he said but he knows Steve is upset about it. Something about Steve not being strong enough. He had only meant it literally because he was sick, but Steve took it personally.

They’ve had plenty a fight like this before. Petty arguments that get solved with an hour of talking and an hour of kissing and cuddling.

Steve’s white knuckle fist gets snuck into Bucky’s hand, fingers wheedling in between the spaces to loosen up. Steve’s hand is sweaty.

Steve had mumbled, “I’m sorry, Buck” the same way he had now.

Bucky can’t remember the rest of the memory, no matter how desperately he begs for more. He wants to remember it all, not just bits and pieces. He guesses that will come with more time. Time that he now has with Steve, since he came back.

“Save it, punk,” he smiles, the words pulling from the memory.

They tend to do that often, repeat history. Bucky likes it. It’s something only they know is repeated because no one else knows. Just them. Just Steve and Bucky.

For the first time since Steve had returned, he smiles. It’s genuine, even though weepy and sad and kind of pitiful on him. He turns to get Bucky wrapped up in a hug again, this time without his huge arms threatening to cut off his air or blood to his head.

Bucky rubs at Steve’s back, waits until he’s gotten it all out of his system and then pulls back to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep on him.

“You’re gonna shower and then eat whatever sandwich I make for you, got it?”

Steve rolls his eyes softly. Another memory rushes forward in his mind. The way Steve does it makes Bucky know he doesn’t really mean it. Steve nods and then waits for Bucky to finish because there’s always more with Bucky Barnes.

“Then we’re going to bed.”

“We’re not going to finish talking about…” Steve goes quiet, that hint of unease coming back.

“Eventually. Not now. Not yet.”

Right now Bucky wants to have time spent together. He’s not had too much with Steve since he’s come back. From now and from before. He wants to do something simple, wants to take care of Steve like how he used to. Maybe then he can let his thoughts drift.

He can pretend it’s the 1940s and there’s no war, no jobs, no pressing matters to deal with or worry about. Just him and his Steve keeping up with daily mediocracies while the sun inches across the sky.

Bucky hasn’t really _wanted_ anything like this since he’s come out of cryo in Wakanda. But fuck does he want this.

And he knows that Steve wants it too.


End file.
